


Never So Sweet A Dream As Laughter

by Ticklishanimeboysaremylife



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, The Raven Cycle - Freeform, Tickle fic, Tickling, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28704000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ticklishanimeboysaremylife/pseuds/Ticklishanimeboysaremylife
Summary: Ronan keeps dreaming of feathers and he can only hide the reason for so long before Adam discovers why.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Kudos: 23





	Never So Sweet A Dream As Laughter

Ronan had been dreaming of feathers lately. 

At first it was only one, barely noticed except that it was pure white, a color so opposite Chainsaw that it couldn’t possibly have come from her. Days went by, however, and the amount grew so that sometimes he woke up surrounded in a blanket of them, brushing them off irritably. 

He always cleaned them up before anyone could notice. 

As far as he could tell there was nothing special about these feathers, nothing significant about them that made them stand out as a dream thing. They were simply feathers, all different kinds after that first one, some stiff and velvety and other soft with frayed edges. Some had dots on them, freckled with color, and some were bright and exotic. 

The only special quality that they had was that Ronan couldn’t look at them without blushing. 

He knew why they were here and that was the reason why he could never let anyone see them. He had been dreaming also, lately, of Adam. This wasn’t unusual in and of itself, only the manner in which he did. Adam lay on his back, bare-chested, curls crushed against grass or a mattress or whatever else their setting was that dream. His head was thrown back in laughter, sweet, melodious laughter, caused by the simple touch of a feather drawn softly across his skin by none other than Ronan himself. 

Fuck. 

It was getting more and more difficult to be around Adam now, as the only thing he could think about when he saw him was the sight of his naked body writhing and laughing under Ronan’s soft touch. Adam joked and teased and kissed him like normal, unaware of this strange secret desire that Ronan harbored. Sometimes he spent the night. It was harder to explain the feathers then. 

“Dreaming about pillows,” he explained when Adam woke up surrounded by feathers as well, one eyebrow raised at the mess. “Big ones. Big enough to suffocate you with. Haven’t quite got it down yet but I’m working on it.”

“Ha,” Adam said, a single consonant by itself that said Ronan was full of shit but he wasn’t going to pursue the issue if Ronan didn’t want to talk about it. So they didn’t. They cleaned up the feathers and stuffed them in the trash, and Adam joked that they really could make a pillow if they wanted. Ronan kissed him because he had learned recently that kissing was a very effective way to shut Adam up. 

The dreams, however, their desire unfulfilled, began to grow more ambitious in their designs. One day he woke up with handcuffs. Handcuffs and feathers. He hadn’t known a way to explain it so he only shrugged when Adam asked him, throwing the handcuffs in the trash as well. Adam didn’t ask him again, but now his eyes remained on him, a piercing gaze that Ronan found himself unable to hold in return. They cleaned up the mess again and went about their day, refusing to acknowledge the reality of the situation. 

Eventually things grew to be too much and when Adam woke surrounded by feathers for the fifth time that week he turned to Ronan and demanded, “Talk to me.”

Ronan, groggily, sat up and shoved off a pile of feathers. “Fuck off.”

Adam circled his wrist with his fingers, not quite grabbing, a gentle insistent tug so that Ronan looked at him, finally. “Hey,” he whispered, not pitying or demanding, just a quiet noise for Ronan to focus on. “Ronan.”

Ronan held his gaze a second longer before diverting it to a wall across from them, able to either look at him or talk but not both, not at the same time. “I’ve been dreaming about tickling you.”

Adam was silent. He was half-tempted to look back, and the desire grew to a needy itch that he forced himself not to scratch. Finally Adam said, “Oh.”

Neither of them moved or spoke. Ronan could feel energy, red-hot like molten iron running through his veins, and he wanted to bolt, to run, to blaze through a whole fucking marathon and never come back. He didn’t. 

“I’m not going to,” Ronan assured him, a bit too quickly. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

He finally looked at him because if he didn’t he was going to explode. Adam was holding a feather between his fingers, staring at it and twirling it ruminatively. He grabbed Ronan’s hand, placing the feather there and closing his fingers around it. “Okay.”

It was like someone had knocked the feet out from under him. He snapped his gaze to Adam, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“I’m not forcing you to.”

“I know.”

“So if you don’t want to—”

“Ronan.”

He was blushing. Adam was blushing and it spread across his face like wildfire, tinging the ends of his ears. The sight made Ronan’s limbs tremble. “I want to. I mean I want to try.”

Ronan looked down at the feather held in his hands, spinning it gently as Adam had done. “Okay.”

“Okay.” For a moment that was that and they sat in silence, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Then Adam spoke, hesitantly. “Should I…?” He indicated his t-shirt and with a stiff, jerky nod from Ronan he pulled it off, laying it on the bed beside them. Ronan took a moment to appreciate his body, the stark lines and muscles that made him up, every part of him carved in perfect detail, like that of a statue. But he wasn’t a statue. He was soft and malleable, with bruises and moles and freckles that covered his skin like art. When Adam pulled his arms above his head, the skin stretched and arched with him. 

“D-Do we start now or—mm!” 

Adam’s sentence was cut off as Ronan drew a feather down the length of his arm, wanting to trace the contours. The feather was stiff and black, like those he often found lying around the house when Chainsaw was molting. He continued going up and down his arm for a while, content with the goosebumps prickling up and down Adam’s body like an invasion. 

“Does it tickle?” he asked curiously, as Adam’s lips were pressed together in a tight line, having not spoken since the initial beginning. Now, though, he shakily opened them to reply.

“Not exactly,” he answered honestly, considering the question. “It’s more like… a soft itch, like when a bug crawls on your arm.” He paused. “It’s kind of pleasant, actually, in an unbearable kind of way. It’s hard to sit still through, though.”

“Hmm.” Ronan moved the feather down quickly, now circling the outer edge of his armpit. Adam stiffened immediately, his mouth clamping shut as he focused on anything but the increasingly devastating feeling of that feather getting closer and closer to such a sensitive area. The edges of her lips were pulled into a reluctant smile that only grew wider when Ronan finally reached his destination.

“Does this tickle?” Ronan repeated, more sure of the answer this time. Adam gave a stiff, jerky nod, arms trembling. He looked like he wanted to say something, or laugh, or both, but he refused to open his mouth. Ronan found himself needing to hear what Adam’s laugh sounded like, genuine and helpless and carefree, a need that burrowed inside him and prompted him to pick up a second feather, quickly targeting his other side. Both armpits now being relentlessly assaulted by the feathers’ soft touch, Adam whimpered softly before a tiny giggle slipped out, followed by a second one and then a third one. Soon Adam was overcome by melodic giggles that seemed to almost trip out of him with each second that went by. 

There was only so long that Adam could keep his arms up as Ronan relentlessly tormented the singular area. With a soft whine Adam drew his arms back down, clutching them across his chest protectively. 

Ronan paused. “Do you want me to stop?”

Adam blushed, shaking his head. “No, it’s just… it really tickles, okay? I can’t hold still for it. Maybe try somewhere else?”

Ronan considered his splayed out form for a moment, trying to think of a spot that the feather would have any effect on. He knew for a fact that harder tickles worked on Adam the two had been friends for years beforehand and there were sparse moments when Gansey would dig his knuckles into his ribs affectionately or Ronan would goose his sides while passing him. Right now, however, he wanted to see strong, prideful Adam fall to such a simple thing as a feather.

Glancing up at Adam to make sure this was okay, Ronan firmly gripped each of his thighs and pulled them apart. Having worn only the discarded shirt and boxers to bed, the entirety of his speckled, tan thighs was on display for the other boy to admire. Ronan traced a hand wonderingly over them, momentarily distracted from his mission. It was only when he saw Adam squirm beneath his touch that he was reminded. He picked up the feather and then, after considering for a moment, grabbed quite a few others as well. He traced the long plumage up his thighs, a thousand fluttery kisses that surprised a squeak from Adam. 

“W-Wait!” he stuttered, grinning helplessly. “T-Thahahat’s nohot fahair!”

“You agreed to this,” Ronan reminded him, delighting in his reactions though he kept his face stoic. “Remember?”

“B-Buhuhut—” Adam protested, but ultimately he could find no excuse and fell back on the bed in a pile of giggles. It was unfair, he held fast to that. It was unfair because there was no possible way Adam could have known he was that ticklish on his thighs or that a feather would tickle him as much as it did. He had hardly ever been touched there, and when he had it was usually by Ronan and usually in far more erotic scenes than their current one. 

He would like to say that had he known how sensitive he was he would have told Ronan no. However, as sparks of feeling scurried through his nervous system to his brain, filling him with a sensation not too far off from floating, he thought that maybe he wouldn’t have. Adam closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the feeling and to the idea that this was far from the last time Ronan took a feather, or other things, to his skin in this torturous way. 

Adam couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on this site, with more to come. I hope you enjoy! :)  
> You can find me at my tumblr: https://happyandticklish.tumblr.com/


End file.
